This Flame will Burn Forever
by shesasurvivor
Summary: "'Fine,' I say, pretending to be annoyed. 'Peeta, I- ' the words become choked up in my throat, just like they always do. And I hate that they do, because it isn't that I don't want Peeta to know the truth." Katniss and Peeta spend a cold winter day wrapped up in each other.


**A/N:** Feeding_geese/bigbigbigday006 and I challenged each other to write "Everlark post-coital snuggles." This is what I came up with.

* * *

Snow falls silently outside the house. I can see it through the window from my place in the bed. It's cold; bitterly cold. The last few days have seen the worst blizzard to hit the district since that time before the Quarter Quell. No one ever goes much of anywhere when this kind of weather hits. Peeta and I have barely left the house in days, only leaving to check on his house and make sure Haymitch is okay.

Today, though, it doesn't look like we'll be going much of anywhere.

Peeta pulls me to him and begins kissing me again. Not on the mouth, not yet. But on the cheek.

"You know, weather like this really isn't so bad," he murmurs. I laugh.

"I mean it," he continues with a grin. "Nothing else gives us the perfect excuse to spend the entire day in bed together."

"The entire day?" I ask, giving him a look.

"Yes," he confirms. "The whole day. Just you and me. And no clothes."

I feel that familiar sensation of warmth rush through me at his words. Peeta picks up on this, because he takes this particular moment to lean in and kiss me again, this time on the lips. And this time, the kiss is much deeper. He outlines my lips with his tongue, before taking my bottom lip between his and sucking on it. I know what he's trying to do. And it works. Before I know it, he's on top of me, moving in and out of me in a slow, leisurely pace as he plants kisses on my lips, my forehead, my cheek; all along the crook of my neck.

After we've finished the second round, I head for the bathroom, quickly finishing my business so I can slide back into bed with him. He just stares at me with a grin as I pull the covers back. Looking like he'd be happy to look at me like this forever. It makes me think of the first time I saw him do this, back during our first Games, when I thought it was all an act, and he was a particularly good actor. I'm glad I know the truth now.

"What?" he asks, no doubt detecting the distracted look on my face.

I shake my head. "Nothing. I just… I was thinking about our first Games."

His grin fades into a frown. "Why?"

"Because," I say, my eyes darting to the window as I watch the silver flakes fall outside. "The way you were looking at me... it reminded me of a time when you looked at me in the arena."

His grin returns as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me firmly against his body. "How was I looking at you?"

"Peeta," I sigh, because he knows this kind of forward talk makes me uncomfortable. But he stays silent, waiting for me to explain. Because he wants to hear me say it.

I let out another sigh, sounding more annoyed this time. Fine. I _will_ say it. "You were looking at me like you want to look at me like this forever."

His grin widens. "Do you like that?"

I feel a blush crawl into my cheeks. "Maybe."

He pulls me in for yet another kiss. When we break apart, he pulls just far enough away that his breath tickles against my lips as he talks. "Sometimes," he says with an air of conspiracy, "you look at me like that, too."

This takes me by surprise, because if it's true, I certainly never realized I was doing so. Peeta lets out a laugh at the look on my face, and gives me another kiss. Then another. And another. My arms come up and wrap tightly around his neck as I feel that tingling sensation pooling in my stomach. More kisses, then Peeta mutters something I can barely make out as he kisses me again.

A third round, with an aftermath that leads into a fourth. Though I would never admit it out loud, I love having Peeta between my legs. But even four times over the course of a morning becomes a bit much for both of us.

"Let's take a break," Peeta says as he catches his breath. "What time is it?"

We both glance at the clock. Twenty minutes after noon. "How about I make us something to eat?" he asks. I nod, but as he slips out of the bed, I find myself reaching for his hand, and holding tightly onto it. He grins over his shoulder at me. Then my stomach rumbles, and I let go.

Peeta slips into a bathrobe and crosses over to the door. Before he disappears through it, he flashes me another mischievous grin. "This won't take long," he promises me.

It's long enough. After a few minutes, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and reach for my own bathrobe. On quiet feet, I pad into the hall, down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where I see Peeta standing in front of the oven. I cross over to him and wrap my arms around him, resting my head against his chest. It takes him by surprise, but without missing a beat, he lifts his arm up and wraps it around me, pulling me closer. He presses a kiss against my forehead. We stand there in silence for some time, just feeling each other, standing in each other's presence while he works. As he finishes, I decide to start a fire.

Peeta joins me in front of the fireplace with our food. We both sit cross-legged next to each other as we eat. Sandwiches with a side of salad, made from greens from our garden. And cheese buns to finish it off.

With the food to energize us and the heat of the fire warming our bodies, it isn't long before we peel the bathrobes off and start on round five. When we're done, we lie on our sides, grinning at each other.

"How long has it been since this started?" he asks.

"The snow started three days ago," I tell him.

"No," he says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I mean since we started sleeping together. Since… since we came back."

"Oh," I say thoughtfully. I bite my lip as I think back. The days blur together sometimes. With the ups and the downs we've been on since the end of the war, sometimes it's easy to lose track of time. "I guess it's been about four years."

For a long moment, he just continues to stroke my hair gently. He looks thoughtful. Finally, he speaks. "Katniss…" he begins. "I... love you, Katniss."

"I know," I grin.

He raises his eyebrows. "And?"

"And what?" I ask playfully.

"And don't you want to tell me anything?"

"Like what?"

"You know what I mean, Katniss," he says, attempting to look serious. But the shine in his blue eyes gives him away.

"Fine," I say, pretending to be annoyed. "Peeta, I- " the words become choked up in my throat, just like they always do. And I hate that they do, because it isn't that I don't want Peeta to know the truth. I've told him how I feel about him, more than once. I want him to know, because I never want to hide anything from him ever again. And really, this isn't why I have a hard time saying it. It's because a part of me-an irrational part of me, I'll admit-is afraid that by saying it out loud, some force, somewhere, will pick up on it and take him away from me again.

But right now, there's no one except the two of us. And Peeta is looking at me with raised eyebrows, waiting.

It comes out in one breath. "I love you, Peeta." And suddenly I'm leaning into him, kissing him desperately. "I love you. So much."

He was taken aback by my onslaught of kisses, but he catches up, kissing me back and holding me. He rubs a hand up and down my back. The action is comforting. After some time, I calm down and simply rest my head in the crook of his neck, feeling warm and safe and happy. We're quiet, but it's the good kind of quiet, the comfortable kind you can only have with someone you feel secure with.

"Katniss," he says after a while, his voice low and quiet and soothing. "Do… do you want to have a toasting?"

I pull back and look at him, surprised by the question. The significance of it hangs heavy over my head. So this is it. This is where I make my choice. My real choice, the one that was always the true question that wedged between us. Do I choose the life of solitude that I always wanted for myself, which is safe and promises that I'll never lose anyone ever again, even though it also means a life of loneliness?

Or do I do the brave thing, and go with what I know my heart wants?

As I look at Peeta Mellark, with his blond curls mussed after the day we've spent together, who looks out at me from behind those long blond lashes, waiting for my answer, trying to conceal the nervousness I know he's feeling, I realize that I already know the answer. I need him. I can't survive without him.

"Yes," I say, nodding fervently. "Yes. I do."

My boy with the bread radiates with the yellow light bouncing off him from the fireplace after hearing my response. "When?" he asks, his grin wider than I have ever seen it in my entire life.

I look at him in silence. Then I look at the fire. "Tonight," I tell him.

He looks surprised. "Tonight?"

"Yes," I say. "Why not?"

"No reason," he says as he shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head. "I just figured you'd want a little more time before we did it."

"No," I say. "I think we've waited long enough."

The side of his mouth quirks up in a lop-sided smile. "Yeah," he says. "I think so, too."

We kiss. It's long and deep and tastes of everything I love about Peeta. But we don't move on to round six. Instead, Peeta climbs to his feet and moves back to the kitchen, this time to prepare the bread that will serve in our marriage ceremony. I'm on my feet, too, to make preparations of my own. Going back upstairs, I find a nice green dress that I change into. I pick out a similarly nice shirt and slacks for Peeta that I remember Portia giving to him on the Victory Tour. I hope it won't provide bad memories, but since I don't recall him ever actually wearing it, it shouldn't be a problem. I drape the clothes over my shoulder and head back downstairs, where I putter around the house finding everything we'll need for the ceremony. My parents' wedding picture. A portrait of Prim. The pearl. The book. I take these things, and bring them back into the living room, and place them carefully around the fire. Everything except the pearl.

As the bread bakes in the oven, Peeta changes into his outfit. He emerges, looking as handsome as I've ever seen him. His happiness is only a part of it. Then the timer goes off, indicating that the bread is ready, and it's time.

We sit on our knees facing each other in front of the fire. The bread rests on a plate between us, two long prongs lying side by side next to it. Peeta looks at me, grinning. I grin back. Then his eyes fall down to my side, where the pearl sits next to me.

"Is that… ?"

"Yes," I say, smiling at him.

He says nothing. But unless I'm imagining things, tears seem to be threatening to fall from his eyes.

"Ready?" he asks.

I nod, never breaking eye contact with him.

He picks up the bread and tears off a piece, handing it to me. I take it from him, and pick up one of the prongs off the plate. He does the same. Together, we plunge them into the flames and watch as they grow golden. Without even having to say it, we both know when it's time to take them out. Peeta pulls his off first, and feeds it to me.

"Katniss Everdeen," he says as I chew the toasted bread, hot on my tongue but not anything more than I can handle. "I love you more than life itself. And I promise you, I'll always be by your side."

Tears well up in my eyes. I don't even bother to hide them. Instead, I pull the bread off my own prong, and feed it to Peeta. "Peeta," I say, but my voice catches in my throat. "Peeta Mellark," I begin again, my voice stronger this time. Then I falter, because I've always been bad at this stuff, even now when the words should be so easy and are so important.

In front of me, Peeta chews on his bread, and waits patiently, smiling at me.

And then it comes to me. In a soft voice, I whisper, "It's always been real."

Now the tears spring up in Peeta's eyes. At the same time, we move towards each other and kiss, holding on to each other as tightly as we can. Peeta's chest heaves; so does mine. Finally he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine. "Thank you," he whispers.

I laugh through the tears and give him a kiss. For a long, long time, we're just quiet as we hold each other, and the realization settles in on us. We're married. We're finally married.

"Do you think we should have told Haymitch?" Peeta asks after a while. "Or any of the others? Like your mother?"

"No," I shake my head. It's true, my mother would have wanted to know about this, to be there on this occasion. Haymitch, too, and Annie and probably Effie. Even Johanna would have wanted to know. But too much of our relationship has been forced to be shared with others when it was really none of their business. "This is for just us."

Peeta just pulls me towards him for another kiss.

Round six.


End file.
